


Malice Afterthought

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Circuit Sex, Circuit Touching, Dubious Consent, Fight Sex, Hate Sex, M/M, Program Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: 100-2.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tron confronts Clu about the Games, he doesn't mean for things to go this far.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Malice Afterthought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oft/gifts).



Tron didn't come here to fight.

He came here for a reasoned conversation. All he wanted was an explanation for the changes Clu has been making to the Games—changes Flynn would never approve of. Derezzing defeated programs was never part of the Creator's plan. That way lies a closed system—fear and chaos—everything Flynn never wanted for his new Grid.

Tron didn't come here to fight. But somehow, that's what they're doing.

They started with words, but they're well past that now. The shouting has stopped, voices fading in favor of a purely physical altercation, and the only sounds in the room are the sharp impacts of flesh and armor.

Neither of them has taken their disc in hand—this isn't that kind of battle—but fury hums electric beneath Tron's skin as he drops to a crouch and kicks Clu's legs out from under him.

Clu lands hard but rolls with it, finds his feet and lunges for Tron, landing them both on the floor.

Clu's weight pins him, hard and fast, and Tron arches up, tries to dislodge Clu—manages to elbow him hard in the chest and draw a disapproving grunt from his opponent's throat.

"Stop that," Clu growls, bracing an arm across Tron's chest and pinning him more firmly.

An extra glow in his peripheral vision catches Tron's attention, and when he glances down he finds Clu's free hand shimmering, manipulating the air and calling sturdy strands of glowing red filament into being.

Tron sees where this is going, and he doesn't like it. Fresh rage rumbles through him at the idea of being bested—being _restrained_ —and he surges beneath Clu. Tron kicks and bucks sharply, and finally manages to throw him off. Clu lands to the side, eyes wide and brow knit angrily. He pushes himself upright. The glowing strands lie strewn at his side, and Tron takes advantage of the opportunity.

The strands feel warm in his hands, shimmering and slick, and he tightens his fingers around them as he launches himself at Clu, renewing his attack. Clu exhales sharply as Tron knocks him forward—as Tron's weight settles across his back and pins him in place.

Clu is swearing now—curse words from Flynn's world—and he twists beneath Tron, struggling to get his hands beneath him.

Tron moves faster. In speed and strength, he is Clu's better. He twists Clu's arms behind his back—easy to do now that he has the upper hand—and uses the glowing red filament to bind them tightly in place.

Tron secures the bonds tightly. He knows they won't break. Clu would never create something so fragile.

Clu gives one last heave of effort, jerking back in an attempt to dislodge Tron's weight, and Tron drops himself along Clu's back, refusing to let him escape. Clu's disc is an electric point of contact against Tron's chest, a spike of sharp, unexpected sensation as the yellow-lit edge brushes the square panels of light at the base of Tron's throat.

" _Fuck_ ," Clu gasps and goes suddenly, instantly still.

Tron draws back. Considering. Reeling from the wave of sensory input as it fades all too slowly.

He's still angry, but there's an undercurrent of something else now. Something new and thrilling and sharp. Power spikes where he brushes against Clu's circuits, and the sensation brings with it a heady rush that only heightens when Clu twists—when Clu's voice shakes out on a groan that cuts quickly short.

Tron leans down again, settling along Clu's back deliberately this time, feeling the bright race of energy where their exposed circuits touch. Even though he expects it this time, the connection still makes the room tilt alarmingly around him, and Tron has to brace his arms on the floor to either side of Clu for a moment.

He knows what this is—but it's nothing like his experiences with Yori.

"What are you doing?" Clu asks. His voice is gruff—strong and wrathful—but there's a different sound beneath those tones. There's the barest hint of need, and—Tron doesn't think he's imagining it—a quiet promise of unraveling control.

"You don't really need to ask that," Tron says, and lifts one hand from the floor to trace a deliberate line up one of the broad yellow circuits along Clu's arm. Clu bucks beneath him, but it's not an attempt to get free this time. The movement is automatic, raw and jagged, and Clu breathes a single, shocky gasp into the air.

He doesn't say stop, though. Tron traces the circuit higher and watches, fascinated, as every yellow line and panel on Clu's body gives a bright, uneven pulse.

Tron feels it, too. He feels the edge of power sharpening in his own systems, a tight coil of energy twisting into him from so many points of contact. Clu's body beneath him is a potent shiver of potential. The spots their circuits touch have become sharp centers of heightening sensation, growing more intense with every passing moment.

Tron shifts above Clu, whole body rocking against him. The fresh friction makes Tron hiss sharply. The sensations hit him hard, raw and overwhelming, and Clu—

Clu groans, low and guttural, and this time when he twists beneath Tron's weight there's different purpose behind the motion. The movement slots him more firmly against Tron's front—rubs his disc across the panels of light centered high on Tron's chest—and Tron buries his face against Clu's throat, moaning despite his best efforts to keep silent.

"Like that, do you?" Clu taunts him. Clu's voice is breathy and imprecise, but there's a malicious edge to the words. Deliberate and cold.

In that moment, Tron thinks he might hate Clu. The feeling is new and terrifying.

"Stop talking," Tron growls, lips brushing against Clu's throat with the words. Clu laughs, circuits pulsing brighter, and the sound sends rage coursing beneath Tron's skin—sets his subprocesses racing, makes his circuits flash blindingly bright.

He moves without a calculated plan. His mouth closes high on Clu's throat, teeth capturing flesh in a merciless bite.

Clu grunts in surprise, and Tron bites down harder, trails his hands over the twin circuits high on Clu's shoulders. The circuits glow brighter, nearly white with intensity, and Tron shifts above Clu, rubs along his back, light-on-light and circuits kindling circuits.

There's a precipice looming ahead—a desperate chasm of mounting power—and Tron feels its approach like an imminent collision.

He doesn't think of changing course.

Clu is writhing beneath him, cursing and gasping. His voice has lost even the barest hint of smugness. He's coming apart under Tron's hands, and Tron can't even find it in himself to gloat. He's too close to gone himself.

" _Finish it_ ," Clu growls roughly. He sounds half mad. He sounds lost and furious and ready to come apart.

Tron groans. He couldn't form words right now if he wanted to, and at the moment he has other priorities.

When the energy mounting between them finally breaks loose, it escapes in a rush of light and sound. The whole room shakes around them, light sources sputtering and surging before they're drowned out entirely in the bright, shattering glow.

Tron can't hold on to coherent thought through the shockwave of sensation. Everything—even his anger—rips free from his chest and washes away on a surge of pure, unrestrained power.

Tron hears his own voice echo wordless in the room, and Clu's shout of release rises to meet it.

Then, for what feels like an eternity, there's nothing.

Tron reboots quickly. His system is running fast on the lingering traces of energy still winding through his code. He rolls to the side, onto the floor and away from Clu, and when he raises his eyes he finds Clu already watching him.

There's something cold and considering in that look.

"Are you going to untie me?" Clu asks. His voice is measured calm. Deliberate. Almost calculated.

Tron's first instinct is to apologize, but he swallows back the urge.

"Yes," he says instead, and moves to comply. The red strands have faded and dimmed, and once he removes them they crumble almost instantly to nothing.

Clu rubs at his wrists as he sits up, still not taking his eyes off Tron.

Tron forces himself to meet Clu's stare with a calm, level look.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Clu's mouth, a twitch that turns into a smirk. The expression sends a chill along Tron's spine.

He waits, jaw clenching and throat working in a silent swallow, and his fingers clench into anxious fists.

"I might make you regret that," says Clu.

Then Clu stands, and leaves the room without looking back.


End file.
